Juicing
by Havah Kinny
Summary: Stiles feels weak, helpless, and unable to protect himself, and as a result, has turned to steroids to make himself stronger. When Derek catches him injecting the drugs, he hopes that his promise to protect Stiles will be enough to get Stiles to stop.


_**A/N: The prompt for this story was "Substance Addiction."**_

* * *

"What the hell are you doing?"

When he hears Derek's voice in the doorway, Stiles drops the small glass bottle and the syringe. They both fall to the carpet, neither broken, and he scrambles to pick them up, to hide them from view, pulling the elastic band from his arm as he does so.

"Nothing," Stiles claims, shoving the items into his desk drawer, closing it, and standing in front of it.

"Didn't look like nothing," Derek states.

"It's not cool to just sneak up on people like that," Stiles retorts, hoping that his rebuttle can keep Derek from pushing the topic any further.

"Don't change the subject, Stiles." In a swift action, Derek moves towards the desk, pushes Stiles out of the way just hard enough and opens the desk, taking out the glass vial.

"Derek, no…" Stiles reaches out to take the bottle back, but it's too late. Derek has already read the label, he's seen what it is, and the emotions rising within him are so intense that he crushes the bottle in his hands, shards cutting his palm, causing him to bleed.

"Steroids?" He growls, looking at Stiles, shaking his head. "Really, Stiles? Steroids?"

"You don't understand." Stiles sits on the bed, his mind racing, trying to find a way to explain away what he was injecting into himself. "You wouldn't understand, you couldn't."

"Why not?" Derek hisses, dropping the crushed bottle over a trash can, pulling the glass from his hand, knowing it won't be long before the cuts heal themselves.

"Because you're strong, you're fast, you can protect yourself," Stiles snaps, his resolve breaking and his deepest insecurities flood out of him, spilling all over the carpet, mingling with the ruined liquid on the floor. "You don't know what it's like to be so weak, so vulnerable. You don't know what it's like to be a helpless pawn in everyone else's game. You don't know what it's like to have to wait to be rescued every damn time you get in trouble, because you're Derek Hale. You can rescue yourself."

"You're not helpless." Derek moves forwards, his eyes fixed on the boy. "You're not just some damsel in distress, Stiles."

"Yes, I am!" Stiles' voice grows louder, and he's glad that his father isn't home, or this argument would be over by now, and he'd be getting an earful from the sheriff about drug abuse.

"Is that really how you see yourself?" Derek's voice softens as he looks at the boy, the pain and hurt so clear on his face.

"Yes," Stiles whispers, and it's this moment where Stiles seems helpless, more helpless than he ever has before. He's doubting himself, doubting what it is about him that makes him so incredible, so valuable.

"That's not how it is," Derek informs him. "You don't need the drugs, you don't need the enhancement. What you've got, Stiles, is amazing. You're smart, you're smarter than anyone I know, and you've got a fierce loyalty to the people you care about that makes you strong in ways that I could never dream of."

"Stop." Stiles looks away, down at the ground, at his feet, shaking his head. He still thinks that Derek doesn't understand, that he doesn't know what it's like to need strength that you can only get from a drug that you're not supposed to have. He has the bite, he has that strength coursing through his veins, he can't possibly understand what it's like to be weak. "You don't know what it's like to be scared, to be unsure that you'll make it out alive, because you have to depend on other people to save you, people who aren't always there."

"Stiles, Scott and I, we would never let anything happen to you," Derek whispers. "You're heart is a muscle, Stiles, and it's a strong one. It will always keep you going long enough for me to find you."

"Until the day it doesn't," Stiles shoots back, shaking his head. "It's not your job to babysit me, it's not your job to be there for me."

"And it's not your job to be out there, in the front lines of a war that you don't have any stake in. You fight because you're strong enough to see where the lines are blurred, and to see how they should be. You see right and wrong, and you can't just sit by and let the wrong take over, even if it's safer for you. Scott and I, we're self-serving in this. We are fighting to keep ourselves alive, and you fight to keep us alive." Derek cups Stiles chin, forcing the boy to look up at him. "You fight for me every day, Stiles, and I will fight for you. You don't have to be scared, and yes, sometimes maybe you will have to wait around for me to come save you, but I'll always come."

"You will?" Stiles looks up. He still wants to be strong enough to be able to protect himself, but if this promise is real, it's the next best thing.

"You don't need those drugs, Stilinski," Derek states. "Not when you've got me." He tips his head down, placing a soft kiss on Stiles' lips. "I don't want to see you with those ever again," he informs Stiles as he pulls away. "Those things can really fuck you up."

"So can a hunter, a werewolf, a kanima," Stiles states.

"You don't have to worry about those things." Derek shakes his head. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

"It's not that easy," Stiles whispers. "I can't just…just stop."

"When you realize you don't need them," Derek begins. "You'll break the addiction."

"How do I do that?" Stiles asks. He knows that his dependency is psychological, that he has grown addicted to the idea of being able to protect himself, of being able to look at himself and think that he might be strong enough.

"You look inside of yourself, and if you look long enough, eventually, you'll see what I see, and when you see what I see, you'll never lose faith in yourself again."

"Thank you." Stiles leans against Derek, letting himself need the other man, letting himself trust that Derek isn't lying, that he'll be there when Stiles needs him.

"Welcome," Derek mutters, holding Stiles close, still scared by what he saw, hoping that the boy he's grown to care so much about will be able to see the strength inside himself that Derek has seen all along.


End file.
